I used to walk through doorways like I was trespassing in my own life. Can you remember when you started shrinking yourself to make other people comfortable?

Let’s be real about this. For decades, we were taught that being small is being good. That taking up space is aggressive, or loud, or selfish. So we learned to fold ourselves into tighter and tighter shapes. We crossed our legs when we sat down. We lowered our voices in meetings. We said "sorry" when someone else bumped into us. We apologized for existing in rooms where we belonged. And now, here we are, navigating the messy, beautiful, terrifying landscape of menopause, and suddenly those old habits feel less like politeness and more like suffocation. You might not even realize you’re doing it anymore. It’s just muscle memory at this point. But I want you to notice it today. Notice how you hold your shoulders. Notice how you hesitate before speaking your mind because you’re afraid of taking up too much air. Because here is the truth that no one tells you until you’re deep in the trenches of midlife: your body is changing, your hormones are shifting, and your voice deserves to be heard without apology. You are not broken; you are evolving. And evolution requires space.

Think about what it costs you physically to keep yourself small. Have you ever noticed how tense your jaw gets when you’re trying not to speak? How your chest tightens when you swallow a disagreement? We carry so much unexpressed energy inside us. It sits in our bellies, in our throats, in the space between our shoulder blades. It becomes a kind of chronic tension that has nothing to do with stress and everything to do with suppression. When you stop apologizing for taking up space, something incredible happens on a physiological level. You breathe deeper. Your nervous system settles. You stop spending calories on hiding. This isn’t just poetic language; it’s biology. When you allow yourself to take up space, you signal to your brain that you are safe. You are present. You are allowed to be here. And when you are allowed to be here, fully and unapologetically, your body relaxes into its natural rhythm. The heat rises, sure, but so does your power. The fatigue might linger, yes, but so does your clarity. You start to feel lighter, not because the problems have disappeared, but because you’ve stopped carrying the weight of pretending you don’t exist.